


Hunger

by Star_Noble



Series: Short Stories [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Fear, Horror, minor description of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 23:15:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7594204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_Noble/pseuds/Star_Noble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Have you ever walked into a room and forgotten what you were there for?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hunger

“Hey Mom?” I call out, bounding down the stairs and skipping into the kitchen. “Have you seen my….wow, you look fancy what’s the...” I reel back, finally noticing the things on the counters. “Are you cooking?” I whisper in horror. No, it can’t be. It’s just a fluke. Yeah, yeah. She’s just cleaning out the fridge, weird but okay.

"Of course." That whole thought comes crashing down.

"No, no. Do you remember what happened last time you cooked? Horrible things happened Mom. We had the firefighters outside our house Mom. For two hours. Not again." I shake my head at her, lifting my hands to protect my own thoughts from that memory.

"It's your father's and my anniversary. I'm going to cook for it, something special." She beams at me, pleased with that thought. Ignoring my last statement.

"Dad would like to have a house at the end of the night." I end up grumbling. “That would be a great anniversary present.”

"Your over exaggerating sweetheart." Still beaming she gathers her brown hair into one of those messy knots you see all over these days. Her bangs swept to one side. I crinkle my nose at her but keep my peace. This is what I get for having attractive parents. Gross, did I just think that? Even in my own brain that’s still nasty.

“Of course.” Agreeing is always good. Best to just let her have this one. Careful like, I sit down on one of the stools to the island counter. Watching her for a minute while Mom gathers up more stuff.

“Is there a reason you ran like an elephant into the kitchen?” Her words make me blush, oops. I didn’t think I was that loud, or hard but I shake my head, shrugging at the same time.

“Yeah, have you seen my phone? I swore I left it charging while I took a shower but it’s not there.” On most days I wouldn’t care, maybe find it later. But today is just not one of those days. Mom shakes her head, shaking out her hands and making the bangles on them jingle. I used to love playing with those when I was smaller.

She finally stops, putting her hands on her hips and giving me a once over. I roll my eyes but stand up regardless, turning. I’m wearing a white ruffled sun dress with one of those chunky brown belts. Brown combat style boots and a brown leather jacket with faux leather around the collar and hem.

I think I look adorable.

“Well, you look nice.” I beam at her, yep. Adorable. But that one's not quite right for telling your only daughter that she looks perfect.

Mom’s eyebrows draw together, worried and questioning. Not another lecture, please.

“I’m going on a date with Kinsey.” Not that she didn’t already know that. The narrow and disappointed look from her is uncalled for. So he’s older than me, he’s who I want. When I said that neither Mom nor Dad seemed happy about it.

“Just,” She pauses, crinkling her nose -oh grace, that’s where I get it isn’t it?- and then just sighs. “Be careful.”

“Yeah,” I nod, “Yeah of course.” Well now that, that bit of gross done I stand up, popping my back as I do. “I’m gonna see if I left my phone in the living room.” Mom nods and goes back to the counter, frowning. I’m so glad I’m going to be gone for dinner tonight, yikes.

The living room is just in the hall and a little to the right so it takes no time to get there.

When I walk in, the room is chilly. My breath ghosting away from me in white gusts. My first thought is that Mom turned the thermostat way down -she loves the cold- but that can’t be right. We don’t have it on during Fall, that’s just silly.

A deep snarl rends from one of the dark corners and I jump, backing away and pressing against the wall next to the door that leads to the hallway. Did a raccoon get in again? But then the shadows, they shift and this thing comes out.

It’s skin is ashen, the palest I’ve seen. It crouches close to the ground, knuckles dragging on the rug. It looks skeletal, skin stretched taut over bone, the whole structure on display. It stands and I can see it has too many joints, the popping and cracking to numerous. It tips its head my way and I desperately want to shut my eyes but I can’t. I’m too afraid to let it leave my sight.

It moves towards me, joints rolling and flowing strangely. It moves slowly. I whimper, the noise getting stuck in my throat.

I can hear it cracking and popping and a subtle -almost non existent- murmuring as it comes closer. Eye like fire root me to my spot. I quiver as it stops in front of me, tears staining my cheeks. The feet have too many bones, too little toes and claws that look sharp enough to cut through steel.

One clawed hand goes to my head, forcing me to look up at it and digging into my hair, claws pricking at my skin. Time slows down as the other hand goes to my chin, deceptively gentle as it pushes my head to the side. A rough, dry tongue swipes across my cheek, once, twice, before moving to my jaw in slow lingering licks. It laps down, moving slowly to the erratic beating of my pulse. My heart jumps when it stops there, slow, torturous licks over the pulse. The tongue presses down, savoring the feel and sharp teeth press down on my skin.

The tongue swipes again, teeth sinking into my neck and I whimper, try to move my arms to push it off but find I can’t. They’re sharper than I expected, teeth barbed with tiny spikes that hook in. I can feel the pull as it drinks and my vision swims, an inky, sucking blackness covering me.

I blink.

Walking back into the kitchen with a curious swipe of my hand over my cheeks. “Hey Mom, what was I doing?” She looks up at me, bangs almost covering her eyes.

“Are you crying?” I shake my head, wiping my cheeks again, strange. “You were looking for your phone.” She says.

“Hmm,” I crinkle my nose and suck on my teeth for a moment. “I’ll check my drawer. I normally toss it in there.” I toss out a bye and head upstairs. Maybe I can find something for this headache.

**Author's Note:**

> [oufit mentioned in story](http://www.polyvore.com/ced_032/set?id=175431219)


End file.
